


Prove It

by bepreparedf0rhell



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, a little bit of longing, they're just dumb okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24294952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bepreparedf0rhell/pseuds/bepreparedf0rhell
Summary: In which Jim's working late in the garage and Mick has plans.
Relationships: Jim Root/Mick Thomson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	Prove It

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO. This came out of nowhere. I've been trying to write for weeks nonstop without any success and this is the first thing that actually worked so I love it for that, plus I just love these big dumb idiots. The working title was 'MAKE BIG GUITAR MEN KISS' so that's all you really need to know about that, lol.

Jim’s surprised when Mick’s name pops up on his phone screen as it rings. A few years ago, it was normal for Mick to be calling him in the middle of the night. Now? Not so much. 

Jim wipes his greasy hand on a rag in his lap - not that it helps - and reaches up to swipe his ever-growing hair out of his face. The clock on the wall of the garage tells him it’s just after two in the morning and he looks back down at his phone to see it still ringing, Mick’s name still flashing at the top. 

He’s not sure why he’s so hesitant to answer it - maybe part of him is scared it’s some sort of a butt dial and it’s not actually Mick calling him on purpose. While he’s considering it, the phone stops ringing and the screen goes black. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles, picking it up and immediately fumbling it onto the floor. He picks it up again and goes to call Mick back, but before he can it’s ringing again, Mick calling again. 

“Hey,” Jim breathes into the phone, knowing full well he probably sounds like an absolute idiot.

“Hi,” Mick says quietly, and then there’s a pause that makes Jim feel like his skin’s melting off. He’s got no fucking clue what to say to Mick, feels like he hasn’t known what to say to Mick in a very long time, and definitely has no clue what to say when he’s calling him in the middle of the night out of nowhere. 

“What’s up?” he settles on finally when it seems Mick really isn’t going to say anything else. There’s an even longer pause this time, and Jim’s half-convinced Mick’s not even there anymore, but he doesn’t dare hang up or even breathe too heavily. 

Finally, fucking finally, Mick sighs heavily on the other end of the line. He still doesn’t say anything right away, but at least now Jim knows for sure he’s there. 

“I miss you,” Mick says eventually, and Jim’s sure he’s heard the words wrong. No way Mick’s actually just said what he thinks he has. Mick doesn’t talk like that, doesn’t do feelings, especially not with Jim.

“What?” Jim asks dumbly, pulling the phone away from his ear and glancing at it long enough to make sure it really is Mick’s name he’d seen on the screen. For a minute he’d almost convinced himself that maybe he’d just been working on the motorcycle in front of him too late and had hallucinated the whole fucking thing. 

“I fucking miss you,” Mick whispers, and Jim’s jaw drops just about to the floor. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, and Mick scoffs.

“I mean I fucking miss you,” he says, and Jim closes his eyes, wills himself not to cry despite the sudden overwhelming urge to do so. 

“I miss you too,” he whispers back, unable to keep the tears from falling. He doesn’t even really know why he’s crying; it was just a few words exchanged, but something about them and the tone and implication of them made him feel like someone had reached into his chest and was squeezing his heart in their fist. 

He’s not seen Mick in the few months since Slipknot’s last tour ended, but he’s not really _seen_ Mick since long before that. They used to be close, painfully so. They used to be some sort of fucked up version of a couple: fuck, fight over stupid shit, fuck the pain away, repeat. It had never been anything official, but it had been their fucked up little cycle. It had been comfortable. Then, it had just stopped. Things had shifted, things had changed, and though Jim had never really known why, he’d never asked either. He’d always just kind of assumed it was something he’d done wrong. 

“Were you sleeping?” Mick asks, snapping Jim out of his thoughts. He’s not sure how much time has passed since either of them have spoken, but he’s pretty sure it’s been a while. 

“N-no,” he mumbles, hoping Mick can’t hear the tears in his voice. 

“Are you crying?”

“No,” Jim says, and he might as well have sobbed it. Mick laughs quietly, a deep breath escaping his lips. 

“Why the fuck are you crying?” he asks, and Jim can tell that even though the words should come across as demanding or rude, that’s not what they’re meant to be. 

“I don’t know,” Jim says honestly. “I didn’t really think you’d ever call me in the middle of the night to tell me you miss me. You just caught me by surprise, I guess.”

“I hope you’re not expecting some stupid fucking chick flick moment where I appear in the driveway and kiss your troubles away,” Mick says, and it’s Jim’s turn to laugh.

“Of course not.”

Jim sighs, finding a relatively clean corner of his shirt to yank up and dab at his eyes with. Another silence settles between them, and it takes Jim entirely too long to realize the implication of something Mick’s just said.

“Wait, why would you show up in the driveway instead of at the door?” Jim asks, glancing up at the open garage door. Mick laughs again, a thick hearty sound that makes Jim smile himself even though he’s not sure why. 

“Because I’ve been watching you work for a half hour and I know you’re in the garage not in the house,” Mick says, and Jim just about drops his phone flat on the floor again. He stands and looks out at the driveway and sure enough, Mick’s car is parked on the street right outside of it. He’d been so consumed by his work that he hadn’t even noticed a car pull up. 

“What are you doing here?” Jim asks as he watches Mick in the car. He’s just sitting there, his broad shoulders almost blending right in with the back of his car seat in the darkness of the night. 

“I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep and… I just…” Mick trails off, and before he can consciously think about it and stop himself, Jim’s putting the phone down on the top of his toolbox and taking long strides to get himself out there. Mick opens his door and stands as Jim approaches, and for a long moment they just stand there in the night, nearby street lights turning both of them dimly orange, staring at each other. 

“I don’t know what this means,” Mick says finally, his blue eyes watery. Jim would like to think it’s because he’s as overcome with emotion as he is, but he knows Mick better than that. Even if he _is_ emotional, Jim pointing it out would just get him punched in the gut. 

Mick doesn’t continue, and Jim’s scared shitless to say anything himself. He’s afraid he’ll say the wrong thing, spook Mick away like a stray cat. Hell, he’s still not even entirely convinced Mick’s actually there. Maybe he’s actually asleep in the garage, his face in a puddle of drool and motor oil. 

“I know you always have to make everything big and emotional and meaningful, but I just can’t handle you doing that right now, okay? We’ll talk, as I know you’re going to be desperate to, eventually. But right now… fuck, Jim, right now I just need you,” Mick tells him after a few more moments pass. Jim’s eyes well up immediately with tears and Mick shakes his head. 

“I’m sorry, I just… you’re catching me off guard here, that’s all. It’s late and I’m pretty convinced you’re just a fucking hallucination and you’re just going to have to give me a second to get my shit together,” Jim manages and Mick laughs quietly. He takes a step forward to close the gap between them and takes Jim’s face in his hands. Jim’s eyes flutter closed as Mick’s long fingers hold him, his thumbs tracing circles on his cheeks, tracing the line at the edge of his beard. 

“I’m not a hallucination,” Mick whispers, and Jim’s eyes open. 

“Prove it,” he dares, and Mick doesn’t hesitate for a second before doing just that. He’s got a hand tangled in Jim’s hair and pulls him close, crashing their lips together in a kiss that should be painful but instead just feels like coming home to Jim. He can’t help but let out a little whine and Mick smiles into him, pushing his body even closer to Jim’s, so close that he’s pretty sure they both feel the bulges in each others’ pants. 

“Do you believe in me now?” Mick questions a few moments later, his breath still hot on Jim’s face.

“Always,” Jim tells him, nodding. 

“I missed you,” Mick says, and Jim’s eyes fill with tears yet again. Mick scoffs, rolls his eyes. “Don’t you make me fuck the tears outta you,” he says, and Jim laughs. 

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever said, but it’s also exactly what I’m going to make you do,” he says, glancing back up at the house. Mick laughs too, shoving Jim roughly towards the still-open garage door.

**Author's Note:**

> wheresyoursavior.tumblr.com


End file.
